The Impossible Becomes Possible
by principalflutist1
Summary: When Severus Snape meets a young muggle, can he finally find happiness or will his pure-blood supremacist views get in the way? Will he be able to forget his past and let a woman into his heart or will the ghosts of his past prevent him from having true happiness?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter and all things related to that. I also do not own any of the pieces I mention that Aimée plays. I only own Aimée and Sophie and any other characters I come up with. This disclaimer will last through the whole story, so I will not put one before every chapter. Enjoy the story!

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><p>To an ordinary Londoner, it appeared that a local shopkeeper was chasing three young thieves to retrieve what they stole from his shop. This was not the case, however. The trio of thieves ran through London trying to loose their pursuer. They ducked down alleyways, running until their lungs burned. Finally, they ran through the back door of a large building.<p>

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><p><em>I'm going to kill you one of these days.<em> I thought as I chased the three Gryffindor troublemakers through the door. They weren't going to get away with stealing from my personal supply cabinets again. I had been chasing them through the corridors at Hogwarts when they lept into a fireplace and used floo powder to go to a small London shop. I had followed, of course. Now here I was, chasing these three through a building that I had the feeling we should not be running through.

_Where did they go?_ I suddenly realized I had lost them. I sped up, determined to find them again. I rounded a corner, and the last thing I remembered before the world went black was running into something and falling backward.

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><p>Aimée Böhm was the daughter of a French soprano and a German violinist. She had spent her elementary school years in France and high school years in Germany. She achieved a masters in music at the New England Conservatory before moving back to France to study at the Paris Conservatoire.<p>

At 25 years old, Aimée was already world famous and traveling with one of her teachers from the Paris Conservatoire. Together, they had devised a series of three programs that showcased her seemingly limitless talent on the violin, cello, piano, and flute, as well as her remarkable endurance. Each program, lasting an average of 2 hours and 40 minutes, not including the intermissions, also tests the endurance of the orchestra.

When our story begins, Aimée had just finished a brutal rehearsal, the first of three that day, with the London Symphony Orchestra. She went to her dressing room and collapsed on the sofa, completely exhausted. Ten minutes later, there was a knock on her door.

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><p>I heard a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to curl up and take a nap.<p>

"Aimée, it's me," I heard a French-accented voice from the other side of the door.

"Come in, Sophie," I called, only half-awake.

"What are you doing lying down? You need to have lunch before your next rehearsal!" Sophie gave me a concerned look as I pulled myself up into a sitting position, groaning as I did so.

"I just played violin concertos for three hours! I'm exhausted! Not to mention I have six more hours of rehearsal today!"

"Welcome to the world of being a professional musician, Aimée. I have to go talk with a few of the musicians in the orchestra. I'll meet you by the stage door in twenty minutes." I nodded, and then Sophie left the room.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ For all the other performances of these programs I had done, we had had at most five or six hours of rehearsal a day, and I was usually only needed for about three hours. _Oh well. At least I'm only needed at one of the three rehearsals tomorrow. _I looked out of the window of my dressing room at the Barbican Centre.

After five minutes of people watching, I grabbed my coat and walked out of my dressing room. I was coming up to a corner when someone ran into me, literally. I fell backward, somehow managing not to injure myself. The guy who ran into me was not quite so lucky. He fell backward, hitting his head on the wall. His body crumpled onto the ground.

_Oh great, _I thought. _What do I do now? _I crawled over to him and checked his pulse. It was fast, as was his breathing. _This guy must have been running for a while, _I mused. Blood was starting to seep out of a wound on the back of his head. After checking to make sure he had no broken bones, I picked him up and carried him to my dressing room.

By the time I had laid him down on the sofa, I was panting even though it wasn't that far. I found some gauze in the first aid kit I keep with me in case I do too much left-hand pizzicato and cause my fingers to bleed. I used a wet paper towel to clean off the blood in his oily black hair and wrapped the gauze around his head. Satisfied with my work, I grabbed my coat and left the room again, this time I locked the door so no one would go in and see an unconscious man on my sofa. I put my coat on and arrived at the door at the same time as Sophie. "You ready?" She asked me. I just nodded.

All through lunch, I tried to pay attention to the conversation I was having with Sophie about how the morning's rehearsal went, but I couldn't stay focused. My mind kept wandering to the mysterious man lying on the sofa in my dressing room. He was rather handsome, from what I saw. _I wonder who he is. He was wearing strange robes._ I found myself drawn to the man for some reason. _Stop it! _The rational part of my brain screamed. _You have not even talked to him yet!_

"Aimée" Sophie pulled me out of my train of thoughts.

"Yes?" I asked, trying to remember what we were talking about. I had no recollection whatsoever.

"What's wrong with you today? You haven't been paying attention to me, have you?" She looked at me, concern evident in her eyes.

"I'm just tired," I lied. "I think I am going to have to sleep in tomorrow morning. I only have to be at the evening rehearsal, so I'll have plenty of time to sleep."

"Are you sure that's all?" Sophie is great, but she sometimes cares too much.

"Yes, I'll be fine after some rest." We finished eating, then I went back to my dressing room, saying I was going to take a nap.

I unlocked the door to my dressing room, and saw the man still lying on the sofa. I checked his pulse again. It was much slower than earlier, but still there. _Well, _I thought. _I guess warming up a little for the rehearsal wouldn't be a bad idea. _I took out my violin and rosined the bow. After tightening the horsehairs of the bow, I was ready to play. I started with some slow tone exercises before moving on to more technically challenging etudes. I was partway through playing the first movement of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto (to resolve the issues I was still having with the piece) when I heard a voice.

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><p>The sound of a violin filled my head. It was a beautiful, longing melody that soon turned dark and exploded into something like fireworks for the violin. As I slowly came out of the fog of unconsciousness, I realized I was lying down with something wrapped around my head. I slowly opened my eyes and turned my head to take in my surroundings. I saw a beautiful blonde haired woman playing the violin. I stared at her, entranced by the way she moved while playing. <em>She's beautiful, <em>I admitted to myself. _No, you will not fall in love with another woman. She will just die like Lily. _The rational part of my brain insisted, but my heart was already taking over. I sat up on the sofa, and became very dizzy. _Why am I here? How did I get here? Where is here?_

Once the world stopped spinning, I cautiously asked, "Where am I?" The young woman twirled around faster than I thought possible. Small beads of sweat had formed around her hairline. Her blue eyes were wide with surprise, and I realized she's even more beautiful from the front. Her blonde hair, ornately woven into a typical German braid, complimented her skin perfectly.

"What?" She asked in a small voice, still very much surprised to see me sitting up and talking to her. My mind went blank hearing her weak, yet beautiful voice and seeing her face for the first time.

"I-I was j-just wondering where I am," I stuttered. _Great. This woman has turned me into a stuttering boy._

"Barbican Centre," she said quietly, in a voice that should have belonged to an angel, not a woman. "I left my dressing room and you ran around a corner and we collided. You hit your head and I-" She had a beautiful accent, but I couldn't place it. She continued to stare at me, not sure if she should continue. By this point, I had pretty much concluded this woman is an angel. There seemed to be no other explanation. "I cleaned your wound up as best I could and wrapped it up. You were unconscious, so I laid you down on the sofa while I went out to lunch. I came back and you were still unconscious, so I decided to warm up a bit." She lifted her violin as she said this, then quickly lowered it again. The fluidity of her movements supported my angel theory. "Why were you running anyway?"

I debated how much to tell her. She seemed to be a muggle after all. "Three kids stole something from me and I was chasing them. The ran into this building and I lost them."

"Oh. I'm Aimée by the way. Aimée Böhm. What is your name?"

"Severus Snape. Excuse me for asking, but where is your accent from? I don't recognize it.'

She giggled, a sound comparable to bells. "It's a combination of many accents at this point. My mother –" She was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Aimée! Rehearsal starts in five minutes," a French-accented voice called from the other side of the door. Aimée bit her lip, making her look absolutely adorable. I couldn't help the small smile that was forming on my lips.

"I'll meet you up there, Sophie!" She called back. Once the footsteps were gone, she turned back to me. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Snape," she said with a smile. "I recommend staying seated until the concussion goes away a bit. I should be down in about an hour and a half or an hour and three-quarters, depending on when we get a break."

"You can call me Severus," I said not fully comprehending anything she said after saying it was nice to meet me. "It was very nice meeting you, too, Ms. Böhm. And thank you. For everything."

"It was no problem! You can call me Aimée, if you wouldn't mind." The small smile that was still on my face grew bigger as we reached a first name basis. She smiled back, a beautiful smile that lit up her face. Suddenly, she frowned, confusing me. "You won't be bored will you?" Her face was laced with concern. "Would you like me to have them send the sound from the stage down here? I can tell them I have a friend down here who would like to hear the rehearsal, but not see it. I have no idea why anyone would want that, but I could make something up. They are working with the volumes on the mics in the orchestra to enhance the sound for the audience, and they can send the sound to any of the dressing rooms. I love modern technology!" My smile grew wider as she paused. "I'm rambling again, aren't I?" She said apologetically. "I'm sorry!" She bit her lip.

"It's fine, Aimée!" Her name felt so nice as I said it. She smiled slightly upon hearing my use of her first name. "And I would love to listen in on the rehearsal!" Her smile broadened.

"I should really go up," she said after glancing up at the clock. "I'll see you soon!" Before I could say anything, she practically glided out of the room, closing the door behind her.

After the door closed, I leaned back on the sofa, smiling to myself like a young boy in love. All thoughts of Harry Potter and his friends were gone. I did not once consider the fact that I had classes to teach. All thoughts in my mind were focused on one person, Aimée Böhm. "See you soon, Aimée," I whispered.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thank you for reading! Reviews would be appreciated, but are not necessary. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so I'm not really sure what I'm doing, but I'm pretty happy with this chapter. I'm sorry for any extreme out of characterness with Snape, but it is necessary for this story. Second chapter hopefully coming soon!


	2. Chapter 2

I left my dressing room and practically skipped down the hallway. On the way up to the stage, I stopped to talk to someone from sound. "Would you mind sending what the microphones pick up down to my dressing room please?" I asked. "My friend would like to hear the rehearsal but not watch it."

"Of course!" The soundman turned to his control panel and pressed a few buttons. "All set."

"Thank you so much!" I squeezed the man's shoulder in gratitude before heading to the side door of the stage. Sophie was standing by it and turned to me when she heard me coming. She had a strange look on her face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Who was in your dressing room with you?" She asked, a suspicious glint in her eyes. I opened my mouth to decline the notion that there was anyone in my dressing room, but Sophie spoke first. "Don't deny it. I heard you talking to someone. A man to be exact."

"He's a friend. I ran into him on my way back after lunch. I offered to let him see my dressing room. I warmed up a bit, then we talked. I'll introduce you at break, if you want. I have to go onstage now." Hearing the orchestra begin to tune, I walked out onstage and tuned with the rest of the string section. Sophie took a seat in the auditorium to make sure the balance between the orchestra and I was correct.

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><p>After the orchestra tuned, the conductor talked a little and re-introduced Aimée to the orchestra. She explained a little about the first piece they would be rehearsing, the Zigeunerweisen by Pablo de Sarasate. She explained the piece's origins and how she first heard it while studying at the New England Conservatory. After Aimée got the conductor's permission to start by running through the piece, there was silence.<p>

Then, the piece started. As I listened, I heard the first melody that seemed to be desperately longing for something. Aimée made her violin sing throughout the melody, and before I knew it her part became more animated. She took the original melody and embellished it. Listening to it, I wanted to run up and see her play it. See her facial expressions; watch how she moved as she played. The melody, so beautiful, yet so sad, reminded me of Lily's death. I remembered seeing her lifeless body lying on the floor. I picked her up and cradled her in my arms, crying. As the violin's melody soared higher, a few tears slid down my cheeks; the first tears I had shed since that fateful night all those years ago.

I jumped as the piece suddenly became loud and spirited, quite a shock after the quiet, sustained note that preceded it. I smiled as I pictured Aimée's fingers flying as the piece came to its exciting conclusion. I couldn't help but clap with the orchestra after the piece had finished. To say I was impressed was an understatement. I couldn't believe that a mere muggle could do something like that. No music I had ever encountered in the wizarding world had affected me in such a way. I was still mildly shocked as they started to work on sections of the piece, sometimes with Aimée playing and sometimes without her playing. Finally, they ran the piece once more before moving on to the Beethoven Violin Concerto. It affected me the same way as it had before.

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><p>Break finally came after 45 minutes of work on the first movement of the Beethoven. I talked with the concertmaster about the Sarasate as I walked off of the stage. As she walked toward the orchestra green room and I walked toward my dressing room, Sophie ambushed me. "How did it sound?" I asked her as I wiped a bit of sweat from my forehead with my sleeve.<p>

"Pure magic, as always," she grinned at me. That's Sophie, always complimenting me, proud of the musician I was becoming. "The audience will be spellbound." I had to smile at that. "So, who is this friend who is in your dressing room?"

"His name is Severus. I met him in Boston when one of my friends dragged me to a Red Sox game." I tried to make my lie sound convincing as I made up a situation that led to us meeting each other. By this point, we were at the door to my dressing room. I opened it and saw Severus sitting on my sofa. I smiled at him as I let Sophie in. "Sophie, this is my friend Severus. Severus, this is my teacher and friend Sophie."

"It's nice to meet you, Severus," Sophie said, shaking his hand. He nodded in response. "Aimée was just telling me how you two met. I was surprised you met in a sports stadium! Aimée usually avoids sports like the plague." I rolled my eyes.

"We both were dragged there against our wills by our friends," Severus said, thankfully going along with the lie I had started. I smiled gratefully at him. The corners of his lips twitched up in response.

"Yes, I saw him sitting on the other side of my friend looking as uninterested as I was. I switched places with my friend and we struck up a quick friendship. The first thing I asked him was why he was in America, as I could clearly hear his British accent. That's when he told me he was getting a graduate degree at Boston College." I finished the lie, hoping Sophie was satisfied. Unfortunately, she wasn't.

"What were you studying?" she asked Severus. I bit my lip, nervous that he wouldn't know what to say.

"Chemistry," he lied easily. "I have enjoyed mixing different substances since I was young." _He's so much better at this than I am, _I thought.

"Nice. Well, I am going to go talk to the conductor. Aimée, sit down and take a breather before the second half of rehearsal. Severus, it was nice meeting you." With that, she turned and left my dressing room, closing the door behind her. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Sorry about that. She's a bit too interested in my relationships sometimes." I let myself collapse onto the sofa next to him. I wiped the last remnants of sweat from my forehead.

"It's fine. Can I ask why you lied to her?" He was hesitant while asking this, almost as if he was nervous about asking a personal question. I suppose he probably was.

"I don't know for sure. I guess I thought if I told her the truth, she would just ask more questions and I'd never get her off my back. Or maybe I thought she wouldn't approve. I owe her so much for getting my career off to such a good start, but she can be annoying sometimes. I know she just wants my life to be the best it can be and she wants me to live up to my potential, but sometimes I just want to forget about music, let loose, and just live my life. Do you know how I feel?" I turned toward Severus, who was patiently waiting for me to finish my mini rant. He turned and looked at me.

"In some ways," he said simply. _Apparently he isn't much of a talker, _I thought. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he remained silent.

"Oh, about your question earlier," I started. He looked at me confused. "About my accent. My mother is French and my father is German. I spent a lot of time in both France and Germany when I was growing up. I also spent four years in Boston, at the New England Conservatory. I grew up trilingual. My parents would converse in English, as neither could speak the other's primary language very well. But in school, I would have to speak either French or German. I never really saw my parents much. My mom is a famous soprano and my dad's a famous violinist, so they were always traveling. I went with them when I wasn't at school. My fondest childhood memories were when I would just sit with them and listen to music. I guess that's why I wanted to become a musician." I glanced at Severus, who was just watching me. Not in a creepy way, but almost in an admiring way. I giggled, slightly embarrassed. A brief look of confusion swept across his face. "I'm talking a lot again, aren't I?"

"It's not bothering me. You're childhood sounds very pleasant."

"I guess. It was hard when we moved to Germany. I had to make new friends, and it seemed people only wanted to be friends with me to get tips on music. In general, people stayed away from me. I was tormented, especially after I kept getting solos in both orchestra and chorus at school. No one in one of the youth orchestras I was in would talk to me because I got first chair flute when I was twelve. In the other youth orchestra, I was equally hated because I got first chair first violin at thirteen. When I think back on it, I only had one real friend until I went to NEC. And I had to leave her behind when I moved to Germany. We still write to each other weekly and visit as often as we can…"

"All of those people were just jealous of your talent," Severus reassured me, catching me off guard. I wasn't expecting that. I blushed and started plucking imaginary loose hairs off of my bow. "They realized how dedicated you were to music and were jealous that they weren't as dedicated as you."

"Thanks," I said awkwardly. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, I spoke again. "How did you like the first half of rehearsal?" A small smile appeared on his lips.

"It was beautiful," he said, looking down at his hands. "I never knew something like that was possible. I… I actually started tearing up a bit at one point…" his voice trailed off and he was suddenly very interested in the wall on the other side off him. I blushed again.

"Then I'm doing my job," I said quietly. He turned to look at me.

"What? How is making me cry doing your job?"

"Someone once said, 'music is what feelings sound like.' When composers compose music, they try to write music that would convey certain feelings, for example, sadness. The great majority of composers accomplished this, so it is then up to the musicians to convey these feelings to the audience. If the audience, in this case you, is emotionally affected by the music, then we have done our jobs. It is sometimes hard for me to play because I get so caught up in the music I am literally crying while performing. One of the most difficult things musicians have to do is convey emotion while not getting too caught up in the emotions. I still struggle with that."

Severus looked stunned. It took him a few seconds to speak again. "I had no idea music is like that. I thought people just listened to music to hear it. I didn't know it has such an emotional value. How do composers convey emotions anyway?"

"That would take me far too long to tell you now. I need to be back on the stage in seven minutes. I can tell you over dinner if you would like."

"Okay, " he said after staring at me for a couple of seconds. "When will we go?"

"After the second half of rehearsal. I have two hours off before another rehearsal from seven 'till ten."

"Another rehearsal? How many do you have?"

"Three today, three tomorrow." His jaw dropped ever so slightly. "But I'm only needed at the last one tomorrow."

"Don't you get tired?"

"Yes, but it's worth it in the end. Playing is very strenuous at times. I can't tell you how many times my fingers have actually started bleeding from practicing too much at one time." I glanced at the clock. "I should really get up to the stage now. I'll see you in a little bit, then we can decide where to go for dinner."

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><p>Aimée got up and left the room. My brain was trying to process everything she told me. I couldn't believe she has caused herself to bleed just by practicing. I also couldn't believe I actually told her I cried a little during the piece. Not long after she left, she came back in and grabbed something from her violin case. "What's that?" I asked her.<p>

"Rosin. I'll explain its purposed later." With that, she left the room again. I closed my eyes as I waited for the rehearsal to continue.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: This took longer to write than I was expecting. I was hoping to get it done before going back to school, but that didn't happen. I'll try to write at least one chapter a month. I'll write more if I have time, but AP history is very time consuming. Hope you like it! <strong>

**~principalflutist1**


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